


A Safe Haven

by Titti



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-23
Updated: 2005-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some cases affect Charlie more than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cuff 'Em, Vamp 'Em, or Just Make 'Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi-Fandom Challenge at http://www.livejournal.com/users/svmadelyn/203490.html

Cases were never the same. Sure, Charlie might use the same equations, but the results could never be the same. Charlie might even be able to calculate the probabilities of how things would turn out, but Don knew better than to calculate. He knew that you always prepared yourself for the worse, so when the little kidnapped girl showed up in a garbage can, cut up in parts, he briefly closed his eyes, and then focused on the case again.

Charlie couldn't do it; he couldn't stop from staring at those dull blue eyes that looked up from a black garbage bag. Then someone touched his shoulder, and he blinked, and when he looked again, the eyes were gone, and his mind was working again, telling him just how sick he was going to be in just a few moments.

Charlie ran away from the scene, barely making it to the edge of the property, before pouring the contents of his stomach on the unkempt grass. He stayed there, hand on an old tree, leaning forward as he willed his body to stop shaking, but he couldn't stop the images replaying in his head.

He straightened up, and looked back at the chaos that was the crime scene. Charlie could see Don, standing in the middle of everything, giving orders, receiving reports. He still didn't know how they could do it, how they could forget the pretty girl with the blond curls tied up in piggy tails, her big smile with a missing tooth on the side, the blue dress that was the same color of her eyes, the pretty girl who was now a mangle of body parts and blood.

God, he was feeling sick again.

Charlie started walking, refusing to look back, trying to clear his mind from what he had seen. He focused on the numbers on the doors, the ones missing, the streets, and the intersection, calculating numbers and probabilities, until he didn't know where he was or where he was going.

Numbers were good, numbers were challenging and numbing at the same time. Numbers could push away the slashes of blue and red that kept popping up without reason.

He shouldn't have been there, Don had told him that, but he had insisted. He had assured Don that it would have been all right. Don had stared at him for a moment, and Charlie had seen the conflict, the need to send his little brother home, and the understanding that he couldn't make Charlie's choices for him.

Charlie had won, or so he thought, and now, he couldn't erase the images from his mind.

Walk. He needed to keep walking.

The unexpected honk in the middle of the night made him jump, and Charlie turned his head toward the noise. The black Suburban with the tinted window had stopped a few steps from him. He focused: 6049932. He knew those numbers, the plate of Don's car.

Don was leaning toward the passenger seat, keeping the door open. "Get inside." Brief, curt, an order, and Charlie was glad that he didn't have to think, but obey. He got inside the car, and put his seat belt on without looking at his brother. "I've been looking for you for thirty minutes, driving around. Are you insane? Do you know how bad this neighborhood is?"

Charlie looked out of the window, 'seeing' the houses for the first time. "Sorry," he said in a monotone, "I started walking...." He couldn't explain or it would make it real. His throat felt tight, and he cleared it, but the knot wouldn't go away.

Don put a hand on his shoulder, and Charlie closed his eyes. "Are you okay, buddy? I should take you home."

Charlie shook his head. That pretty much answered both questions. "I can't go home yet."

"I don't have to go back until the morning. Do you want to go to my place?"

Morning. Charlie looked at his watch, and it was already 2am. Don would probably be in the office by 6. He should really go home, and let Don get some sleep. "Can we drive around for a while?" instead he said, sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

"Sure thing." Strong Don, always in charge Don. Charlie wondered how much of Don's personality was the result of growing up with parents who spent their time dealing with their genius son, but then Don squeezed his shoulder, and smiled, and Charlie stopped wondering, and started looking at his brother.

Don drove through the streets like he did everything else: determined, certain, with a goal in mind. Charlie envied that clarity, that ability to focus on the real world, that clarity that Charlie only had with numbers, and when the car stopped, Charlie knew how long they had driven, the velocity, and the miles covered, and yet he had no idea where they were.

Don turned off the engine, and turned toward his brother. "I can keep driving if you'd like."

Charlie looked outside. They were in some field, it was dark, there were lots of trees around, and from afar he could see the lights from the city. "No, this is fine."

"Wanna talk?" And Don's hand was back on Charlie's shoulder, his thumb rubbing Charlie's neck.

"Why..." Why didn't we stop it? Why did he do it? Why did I see it? So many thoughts in Charlie's head, but he knew that he was looking for answers that didn't exist. "Why don't you kiss me?"

Charlie saw the brief moment of hesitation that Don experienced every time they were together, that sense of guilt that plagued Don, but that Charlie couldn't remember ever feeling, and that sense of morality that almost made Don stop.

Almost.

Then, both hands were behind Charlie's head, and Don was pulling him close, and sometimes Charlie wished that the government used smaller cars, because it felt like the Red Sea was dividing them, and Charlie was moving, never caring about laws and rules that were made up without any logical basis, and his lips were pressing against Don's.

"We shouldn't..." The words barely made it out of Don's mouth, before Charlie's tongue was there, chasing away any other thought and caressing away any worries.

Don was still sitting straight, thinking, always thinking. Charlie knew that it took time for Don's doubts to disappear, but they always did, and when Don's fingers curled around his hair, pulling a little too hard, Charlie knew that he had won, that he had gained the opportunity to forget the outside world in his brother's arms.

Crouching between seats wasn't comfortable, and kept him too focused, and Charlie needed to lose himself like he could only do with Don. "Back..." he whispered between kisses, and he didn't have to explain. They moved in silence, folding seats with well-practiced movements, and then they were lying on the coarse fabric, and Don was covering him, fighting with his shirt, and Charlie was more than happy to lose it.

Don's lips were going down his chest, nipping and licking gently. There was no shouldn't and couldn't, it just was, and Charlie banged his head against the car as pleasure pushed away everything else.

"God, I shouldn't..."

How could Don even say that when his lips were on Charlie's stomach, and his hands were on Charlie's belt?

Charlie's hands framed Don's face, and he strained his neck to look at his brother. "I need this, Don...please." Emotional blackmail, there was no other name for it, but he didn't care, because in the end it was the only way for Don to get what he wanted without feeling guilty, or maybe slightly less guilty.

"Charlie..." And that tiny shake of the head showed that Don was still thinking, and then he bowed his head, almost like a penitent sinner, who was unable to stop nonetheless.

"Don...I need you." As clear as one plus one, and Charlie gripped Don's shirt, and pulled his brother up, their mouths were meeting again, while Charlie fought with the tiny buttons of Don's shirt.

When Don's shirt was finally off, they rested chest to chest, and Charlie moaned. It was sudden heat, burning him from the outside to his very core, until Charlie felt on fire.

"God, you look...." Don never finished the sentence. Instead he framed Charlie's face, pushing away the unruly curls that kept spilling on Charlie's face, and stared.

Charlie couldn't take those eyes filled with guilty and want, and he pulled Don down, toward his neck, where he couldn't see his brother's eyes. "I look like a man who wants to be fucked," he whispered, while his hands traced Don's spine, anticipating the noises that Don always made. "I want you to fuck me, Don. I want to feel your cock inside me...I want to burn, I want to see you come... want so much."

Rambling, he was rambling like he always did, and Don didn't mind, or he never said anything if he did. Instead, Don continued to kiss his way down Charlie's neck while their hips moved rhythmically, until they were humping each other like two teenagers, and Charlie started laughing.

"What now?" And Don wasn't taken aback, more amused by his brother's outburst.

"We're fucking in a car." Another chuckle escaped Charlie. "I was thinking fucking in a car like teenagers, but I never did it when I was a teenager. By then I was thinking about my PhD., and going to school with 'old' people."

And the sad look was back on Don's face, the one that said 'you should have had a normal life', and Charlie needed to get it off, wipe it out like a blackboard, because he was born different. He rolled from under his brother, and straddled Don. "Don't even think it, all right? I know what I want; I've always known. Back then, I wanted my PhD more than I wanted sex in a car. Right now, I want you more than anything else."

Don didn't answer, but his forehead creased for a moment before pulling him down, their lips meeting again. "You have me."

"Good." Charlie's hands were on Don's belt before the word was out. The expensive leather flapped open and Charlie unbuttoned the blue slacks. "Raise your hips," Charlie said, without wasting time. He needed to keep moving, not to give Don the time to think and feel guilty, and maybe change his mind. The only pause was to search for the condom in Don's wallet, and Charlie didn't want to think why Don insisted on using condoms, or the fact that Don might have sex with someone else.

No, he shouldn't think about that.

Charlie focused on his brother again. They shouldn't linger; they were in a car in the middle of nowhere, but his lips found their way to Don's cock, savoring the salty taste as the precome hit his taste buds. He could do this forever, watching Don lose it, feeling his brother's fingers wrap around his hair, pulling on it as he lost control, hearing the small sounds that Don tried to choke back, but in the end, he was the one who moaned when strong hands pulled him off.

"I want to fuck you."

Any objection that Charlie had had died before he could voice it, and he handed Don the condom before going on his hands and knees. "Please."

Then Don's hands were on him, and his world was suddenly perfect again. His cock responded eagerly to Don's fingers, and when wet fingers pressed inside him, Charlie forgot about society, taboos and little blond girls, and he could only think of Don and his cock. "Now."

That pause, always that pause, and Charlie wished that Don would accept the fact that his body was always ready when it came to Don. It was like a natural law with no exceptions. Don didn't believe him, but he didn't question, and Charlie groaned as the thick cock pushed inside him, starting the fire anew.

"God, Charlie...." Don's fingers were like an iron grip on Charlie's hips, and any restraint that Don had had disappeared, as he buried himself inside Charlie's body, balls slapping against Charlie's ass.

It was fast; it was brutal; it was perfect. Charlie felt burning inside and out. His ass ached as Don claimed him with passion. His knees would have rug burns, if they didn't have them already, as each thrust pushed him farther, until his forehead was resting against the cold glass. But most of all his heart was on fire. Irrational, sinful, illegal, and yet no one else on this earth had ever made him feel so at peace and alive at the same time.

The earth was rocking, or possibly it was only the car, as the rhythm got even more furious. Charlie moved a hand on the glass to stop from bumping his head against it. Then, everything stilled for a moment, and he felt Don's forehead resting on his back, heavy breath chilling his damp skin.

Charlie almost cried out in need, but then Don's fingers glided over his erection, pumping and twisting just the right way, tightening the way he liked, and Don skilfully coaxed Charlie's body to respond, until he was nothing more than a pliant body in Don's arms.

Don kissed him gently, petting him until he came down from his high, brushing his hair away from his face. "I should take you home," Don whispered.

Charlie shook his head. "I'd like to stay at your place, and go in with you. We need to stop this bastard."

Those blue eyes flashed before his eyes for an instant, but it was momentary, and then they were moving again, erasing any external trace of their encounter. It almost hurt, but then it didn't, because as they lay on Don's bed, warm and loving chocolate eyes replaced blue ones, and everything was all right in Charlie's world.


End file.
